


Third Glance

by Pfefferminztea



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pfefferminztea/pseuds/Pfefferminztea
Summary: Anzu has become a dancer and is working on a Musical production in Germany, Mai comes to visit her while in Europe for a tournament. Just when Mai is certain there's a spark between them, though, Anzu's attention seems to be otherwise occupied.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [erawebuilt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erawebuilt/gifts).



> Prompt was: "prompt 1: gx; mai/anzu; presumed unrequited love from one bc the other seems likely to hook up with their (implied) canon love interest."  
> I went ahead and assumed that this was dm, not gx, unless there are also two characters named Mai and Anzu in GX, in which case I'm very sorry.
> 
> I've also been itching to try a variation on a few headcanons my girlfriend and I were playing with a while back (regarding Mai's ancestry and Anzu working on 'Tanz der Vampire'), so partial credit (as almost always) goes to Kiwianna. Tanz der Vampire/Dance of the Vampires is based on Roman Polanski's 'The Fearless Vampire Killers', hence the film recommendation Anzu gives to Mai.

<I’ll be out in half an hour, have to shower first. Meet you in the lobby?>

<No stress, I’ll be waiting. Got us a table in the bar. Want me to order something for you?>

Anzu doesn’t reply, but Mai just goes ahead and orders a platter of appetizers anyway. If she feels anything like Mai after a big performance, Anzu must be famished after this.

The waiter raises an eyebrow when he takes her order, but doesn’t protest. “What, surprised I can put away that much food on my own?” Mai leans back and wraps a strand of hair around her finger, not even trying to hide her glee at the waiter’s obvious discomfort. He probably knows it’s unprofessional of him to judge his customers’ orders, so that serves him right. “Don’t worry, hon, I never have trouble finding company. Bring me a glass of red with that, will you?”

A nod as he jots down something on his pad. “Certainly, madam. How do you prefer your wine? We have-“

“I don’t care. Anything. You choose.”

She’s perfectly capable of choosing a nice glass of wine to go with most dishes, the subtle differences that come with regions and varieties is something her parents introduced her to early. Which isn’t to say they let her drink wine as a kid, the interest in, and knowledge about, wine has just always been around. And always something Mai has refused to use when she could help it. Always a welcome way to rebel, in the smallest way possible, against people who seemed to set her worth somewhere between a fine vintage and a Picasso on the representation scale. Well, she might have sat higher once, particularly as a toddler. But then kids have such a pesky way of developing their own needs and wants. Paintings never do that to you.

It only takes a couple of minutes for the waiter to return with her wine. Making a point again of shushing him when he wants to tell her the name of the drink, Mai washes down her bitter thoughts with a generous gulp. This isn’t a night to be angry about things that she’s long since meant to make her peace with.

Forty minutes or so pass with the first glass, nibbling on some baguette, and idly flipping through her phone. She's just going through some press photos from her last duel – debating whether it’s worth contacting the photographer for some to put on her website – when someone touches her shoulder.

“Sorry it took me so long. That makeup is a bitch to wash off.”

From afar, the performance didn’t tell Mai much except that Anzu has obviously come into her own as a dancer. Up close, though, it is obvious that she is doing well in other ways, too. Her makeup-less face stands in stark contrast with most women in the bar, the bulky, loosely-knit sweater she wears over a sports bra is made more for comfort than for glamour. Still, she radiates more confidence than Mai has ever seen on her, and the ease with which she carries herself suits her. A lot.

With a little surprise, Mai realizes that she feels almost a little in awe as the younger woman draws her into a hug. “Don’t worry,” she hears herself say, still slightly disoriented and finding it difficult to draw away her gaze from Anzu’s smile. “I found something to do. And I ordered food, figured you’d be hungry.”

With a grateful grin, Anzu sinks down across from her. “Starving, actually. Those costumes are heavier than they look. Did you see me?”

It’s hard to tell, actually, between the distance and the wigs. “I think so. Did you do Sarah’s reflection?”

Anzu breaks into an even wider grin, and responds with an enthusiastic nod. “I KNEW you’d spot it. Yugi couldn’t. Even though I sent you guys those photos. He came two nights ago, you know, but until the end of the play he had no idea which one was me. Well, I guess they do put a lot of stuff on us, especially in the scenes in which we’re supposed to be a double.”

Mai watches her, smiling, and pushes the plate across the table.  It’s a rare feeling for her to be with a friend, and entirely uncharacteristically, she catches herself wishing that it wasn’t. It feels good to listen to Anzu talk about something she is so passionate about, and feel herself actually care. Not for the sake of a shared interest, or as a purely strategic move to get somebody to like her, but because Mai actually wants to hear what it is that makes this person happy.

“I’m sorry I dragged you all the way over here, by the way. I didn’t realize how far it was to Frankfurt until you’d already told me you booked your tickets. You could have told me!”

With a flick of her wrist, Mai dismisses Anzu’s concern and reaches for one of the stuffed peppers. “And miss this? You have no idea how much I needed a break from that whole dueling thing. And I really enjoyed it. I’m not a huge musical fan or anything, but this was nice.”

Anzu looks relieved, and draws her feet up on the leather seat to nestle comfortably into their booth, before she begins to nibble on an appetizer herself. “Good. Did you watch the film I sent you? I know it’s not the same but I thought maybe that’ll help you follow the musical. I don’t understand why they have to make it all in German. They could at least leave the songs that used to be in English. Or put up surtitles or something.”

Just at this moment, a waitress walks by their table and Anzu turns to her before Mai can respond to her last words.

“Wir hätten gerne noch Brot, bitte. Und für mich noch ein Glas Wein. Mai?“

This is the first time that night that she actually looks flustered, but while she’s still frantically searching for an apology, Mai gives her a conspiratory grin and turns to the waitress.

“I’ll have some more wine, as well. Thank you.”

When the woman is gone, she glances again at the younger woman, who is looking at her with a wide-eyed mixture of amusement and wonder.

“Did you understand that, or are you just really quick at reading and responding to context?”

Both, probably.

“My father is actually German. He moved to Japan for business and met my mom, so he stayed. I understand a lot, but I don’t really speak it. Not enough to understand the musical, obviously, the film helped.”

Clearly, this is the right disclosure for Anzu, who immediately launches into a series of questions about where exactly Mai’s family is from, has she been to Europe before, has she been here, has she been there? Peppered with enthusiastic accounts of her own travels – it’s actually amazing how many of those she seems to have squeezed into the tight performance schedule.

Generally, talking about her family always makes her a little uncomfortable, but for some reason, with Anzu, it’s actually really nice. She never lingers on a point when Mai hesitates, and seems genuinely interested, and non-judgmental, when she does tell her something. Plus, she is amazingly talented at recounting anecdotes and talking about all the little facts she picked up on her travels, something Mai never realized when they travelled in a group in which Anzu always seemed to play more of a supporting role.

Unconsciously, Mai finds herself refraining more and more from telling long stories herself, and instead offering short questions or comments just to keep her talking. Sometimes, when they both reach for the bread at the same time, their hands brush against each other, and Mai feels a little jolt in her spine.

The second glass of wine is almost empty, and she has almost worked up the courage to ask about Anzu’s current relationship status, or… something, to acknowledge what is happening here, when a skinny figure in a black shirt, dark jeans and equally dark hair emerges from somewhere behind the bar, looks around for a moment and then heads straight to their table. At first, Mai thinks it’s a waiter, but on second glance, the figure becomes oddly familiar. On third glance, her brain finally catches up with her hunch, and she recognizes the newcomer.

“Yugi!”

He must have given up on whatever ridiculously elaborate bleaching and coloring routine allowed him his familiar tri-colored hairstyle. He also wears his hair much shorter now, so although it’s still styled into spikes, it looks a lot less unreal, and reveals a triangle-shaped tattoo on the side of his neck.

“Hi girls, I hope I’m not interrupting? Anzu, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, my meeting finished unexpectedly early, so I just caught the next train and figured I’d find you somehow. Tried to get backstage, but they wouldn’t let me of course, lucky I found one of your coworkers who could tell me where you are.”

The heavy knot that settles in Mai’s stomach as she sees Anzu rise and hug her childhood best friend – is that jealousy? It must be, because it definitely grows heavier as Yugi casually slides into the booth next to Anzu, his hand resting affectionately on the small of her back.

“Hi Yugi, I didn’t know you were still around! Anzu mentioned that you came by a few days ago, but I figured you’d flown back to Japan already. What a nice surprise!” At least her voice doesn’t seem to be affected by whatever weird emotions are suddenly brewing within Mai.

At least, from the way Yugi grins at her, he seems pretty pleased with the effect of his sudden appearance. And not at all suspicious about Mai’s tone.

“Yes, well, I’m negotiating some deals for the new Kaiba Corp archeology-themed amusement park that we’re working on, and it’s taking longer than I thought. But if all goes well, we’ll have some actual archeological artifacts from the big European museums in a little exhibition in the park. Going to cost a fortune, of course, but hopefully it will help interest people in history.”

That actually does sound pretty amazing. Not that Mai is into history OR amusement parks, but she can appreciate a good strategy when she sees it.

The conversation keeps flowing, and it’s interesting to hear about Yugi’s new career plans, about Anzu’s hopes of moving with the company to a different city once this production is finished, about Honda’s business and Kaiba’s newest antics and all of that, but something about the dynamic has changed. Anzu’s attention, naturally, is divided between the two of them. And for some reason, Mai can’t bring herself to be calm about it. Unlike before, she suddenly finds herself bitter about not having a bigger part in this conversation, and butting in with slightly-sour remarks at not entirely appropriate times.

The first time it happens, nobody seems to notice, and she just slightly flinches herself. The second time, Anzu and Yugi both give her a funny look, but seem to decide it must be nothing, and keep on talking. Just before the third time, Mai catches herself and manages to change the topic instead. Talking about the tournament she is currently in, and old acquaintances still in the dueling game, at least allows her to hog all the attention she wants.

Still, the evening has turned inexplicably exhausting, and Mai is glad when, after another two hours, Anzu finally  excuses herself, and Yugi also announces he needs to get back to his hotel.

She’s just settled into her crisp, comfortingly cool blankets, and reaching for her phone to turn it off for the night, when it buzzes with an incoming message.

<Thanks for the lovely evening. You really made my day.>

A smile creeps across Mai’s face, and she reads Anzu’s words several times, before typing back.

<And you mine. It was great to see you again.>

Her hand hesitates on the ‘send’ button, types, erases… types again.

<I kind of wished I could have kissed you goodbye though. Yugi’s a lucky guy.>

Her heartrate picks up, and for another second, she hesitates to send. Then, _What are you, fourteen?_ , she smiles at her own silliness, and hits ‘send.’

Suddenly feeling the need to distract herself, she jumps out of bed again, picks up some of the dirty laundry that strewn across her hotel room, and stuffs it into a laundry bag. She’s just carried the kettle into the bathroom, to make what might be her first cup of tea in three years, when there’s a distinct ‘pling’ from the other room.

<Yugi is my best friend.>

Well that’s… is she just going to ignore the awkwardness of Mai’s second message? Must have been more embarrassing than she’d thought, then. Nervously, she stuffs a strand of hair into her mouth and begins chewing on it, frantically searching for a plausible excuse. Before she can come up with one, thought, her phone vibrates again.

<I kind of wish you’d done that, too, though. Seems like we have to see each other again very soon.>

 


End file.
